


Closer

by aloevera



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: College!Peter, F/M, Stripper!Bucky, Stripper!Steve, bartender!Peter, club owner!tony stark, stripper!natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 23:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloevera/pseuds/aloevera
Summary: Here's a stripper!Bucky fic that no one asked for. Features Closer by Nine Inch Nails.





	Closer

For the first time since your shift began at eight, the club is quiet. A classic rock song that Tony particularly enjoys is playing lowly in the background but there are no more patrons lingering in the seats, giggling about this performer’s gorgeous ass or that one’s hip thrusts; no more dancers filling the stages, performing for the crowd with blaring music and pulsing lights; and the stools in front of the bar are finally empty, no more drunken requests for you to take a shot or get up and dance yourself.

 

It’s almost blissful, the silence, but as always at the Stork Club, it never lasts.

 

“The dishes are finished,” Peter informs you with a smile as he wipes down the corner of the bar, breaking the quiet atmosphere and pulling you away from wiping down your workspace. “Boxes are also sorted and counted, the bottles are ready to be pulled whenever you need them.” You nod and hum a thank you before the two of you settle into a quiet lull as Peter continues to rub at the same spot on the bar. 

 

He hesitates for a moment before he stops wiping, turns to face you, and mumbles, “I hate to ask, but can I head out early? I have a paper to finish before my lecture in the morning. I meant to get it done earlier but…”

 

You really want to say no, there’s so much that still needs to be done, but you can’t help yourself. “Go ahead,” you sigh with a shake of your head. “Stop procrastinating, kid. You’re gonna end up being a fifth year senior if you don’t get your shit together,” you admonish him as you take the rag from his outstretched hand.

 

Peter hangs his head and nods. “I know,” he breathes, “It’s just tough, getting used to the job and school and a life. I didn’t really have a life in high school. I had a few friends but this is so different. Anyway, I’m getting there, though!” he informs you happily. He hesitates a moment longer after your smile fades before he asks, “Are you sure you don’t need me to help clean the tables and stuff?”

 

“I’ve got it covered,” you assure him, although you definitely don’t have it covered, “finish your paper. Make an A. I’ll see you on Friday, Peter.”

 

You watch as Peter grabs his backpack from the hook in the storage room and slings it over his shoulder. “See you on Friday,” he calls as he bolts out of the club before you can change your mind.

 

With a shake of your head, you return to the task at hand. The bar is covered in spilled liquor, the floor desperately needs to be swept, and the tables and chairs need to be cleaned. Without a second set of hands, you’re sure that you’re going to be here all night. You try not to dwell on it. After all, Peter’s college career comes first. But it would be nice to have some help.

 

Pushing away your thoughts, you huff out an annoyed breath and finish cleaning your workspace before you grab the rag and bucket and set your sights on cleaning the filthy, sticky mess from the bar.

 

“Parker bail early again?” you hear a voice question before you lift your head to see Bucky leaning against the bar, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants.

 

You nod at his question and plop the rag onto the counter. “Has a paper to finish,” you shrug. “Can’t blame him. I hated working nights in college, too. It really eats into your all-nighter time.”

 

Bucky smiles slightly at your words before he moves a little further into the room. “Jesus,” he breathes as he takes in the mess that is now the room, “this place is filthy. All this happened tonight?”

 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “happens every night.”

 

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly before he turns to face you. He’s still a significant distance from you but this is the closest he’s ever been. “I’m sorry, doll,” he mumbles before he reaches for the second rag soaking in the bucket. “Let me help you out.”

 

“You don’t have to,” you inform him as you look up from the bar, “I’ve got it. It’s not a big deal.” When Bucky fixes you with a look that says he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, you hold your hands up in surrender. “Okay, sure, thanks for the offer, Bucky. I appreciate it. I could definitely use the help,” you admit as you grab your own rag and return your attention to the bar.

 

You miss the smile on Bucky’s face as you return your focus on cleaning the sticky mess from the counter.

 

As you continue to work through your nightly routine, you can’t help feeling that working with, or even being around, Bucky is a departure from normal. The two of you aren’t exactly friends. You’re not strangers, there are no hostile feelings for one another; you’re just not close. You’d expected something more than a casual ‘hello’ after your first meeting with Bucky but nothing had ever materialized. It’s always the same ‘hello’ or polite smile whenever he passes by you but nothing more than that. And after your first meeting, neither of you has taken the initiative to get to know the other.

 

_“Sorry, doll,” you hear a voice call, breaking you from your thoughts, “we’re closed.”_

 

_As you turn away from the bar and glance at the brunette you’d seen dance earlier, you can’t help but stare. His hair is tied in a low bun, a few tendrils of hair frame his face, and he’s no longer in the black combat gear you’d seen him sporting earlier. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a red henley, his hands are shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you carefully as you shift in your seat._

 

_His bright eyes glow with amusement as you shake your head to rid yourself of any distracting thoughts. “You alright there, doll?” he questions, his mouth quirking in a smirk._

 

_You’re definitely not alright, you think to yourself as you watch him shift into a more comfortable position against the bar but you know that you can’t let yourself dwell on these thoughts. He’s about to be your co-worker, you can’t really get involved with him. But before you can tell him as much, that you’re going to be working with him, a voice interrupts._

 

_“Careful, Barnes,” Natasha calls as she returns from the back room. “She’s our new bartender.”_

 

_“She is?” you hear a new voice call before a slightly higher voice shouts, “Thank God!”_

 

_An older man you recognize as Tony Stark enters the room followed by a shorter boy who you assume is Peter, the current (awful) bartender Natasha had been telling you about. Tony’s eyes narrow at you for a moment before he turns them to Peter. “Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter smiles before Tony can question him, “but this is too much for me. I’m terrible at mixing drinks.” He turns to you before he continues, “But I can help with whatever you need! I’m stronger than I look. I can lift stuff, boxes and inventory. I can help with the cleanup at the end of the night and wash dishes. I just don’t want to be at the bar anymore.”_

 

_Tony sighs at Peter’s rant before he turns to you. “Do you have any bartending experience?”_

 

_“Of course she does,” Natasha cuts in, “she’s the best. It’ll be great.”_

 

_“Fine,” Tony nods, “but don’t destroy my bar. Also, we don’t water shit down.”_

 

_“Never would dream of it,” you assure him with a grin._

 

_He takes a moment to really look at you before he raises an eyebrow. “You’re cool with being behind the bar? You don’t want to be on stage?”_

 

_“Not particularly. The bar’s where I’m more comfortable,” you answer honestly with a shrug._

 

_“Fair enough,” Tony nods. “Anything to keep this kid from fucking up my bar anymore than he already has. Alright,” he claps, “Peter, you can clean up tonight. Natasha, I need to speak with you. See you tomorrow.”_

 

_You throw your hand up in a quick wave as Tony and Natasha leave the main floor and let yourself relax against the bar as Peter scurries off to the backroom to grab cleaning supplies. You almost forget about the man you only knew as the Winter Soldier until you hear him clear his throat._

 

_“I’m Bucky,” he introduces, a small smile on his lips, “and I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”_

 

After that interaction, you hadn’t really spoken much with Bucky. There had been a few pleasant, polite exchanges but nothing significant. And you’re not sure why you’ve never really interacted, you’d love to get to know the man behind the mask, but you’ve never really pushed it.

 

As you wipe down the bar stools, you chalk it up to Bucky’s personality type. Apparently he’s the type of person that’ll come to you if he’s so inclined, as Natasha once informed you. “He’s had a rough past,” she mentioned when you questioned her, “he’s not the same as he was before but he’s working on it.”

 

So, armed with that information, you hadn’t pushed for his friendship. Steve, his closest friend, told you that Bucky would come around the longer you stayed but you hadn’t really believed it until this moment. Now, as Bucky works alongside you in companionable silence, you think that maybe Steve had been telling the truth.

 

As the song fades from Black Sabbath’s Iron Man to Warrant’s Cherry Pie, Bucky turns his eyes to you. “Does Tony’s music ever bother you when you’re closing up?” he questions as he pauses his movement and turns to fully face you.

 

“Not really,” you shrug as you lift your head to glance at him. “We have similar tastes in music.”

 

“You’re into classic rock?” he questions, a small smile on his face.

 

“Mhm,” you nod, “most rock, honestly. I like the classics like Sabbath and Zepplin but I’m also into glam rock and metal. The heavier the better.”

 

“Explains why you always perk up when Pietro performs,” he hums as he watches you place the barstool on top of the bar.

 

“You sure it’s the music?” you tease with a small smile. “Maybe I just like Pietro.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes as he follows your lead and helps you lift the stools. “He’s not your type,” he shrugs. When you glance at him curiously, Bucky tucks his hands into his pockets once more and shrugs. “I have fully functioning eyes, I’m not oblivious.”

 

“Okay, Barnes,” you challenge as you turn to face him fully, “you think you’re my type?” Bucky doesn’t answer your question, instead he smirks and turns his attention back to the task at hand. “What type are you, then?” you question with a hum.

 

Bucky grins at your question and shrugs once more. “Not Pietro,” he laughs, “that much I know for sure. Glad I’m not, though. You almost broke a bottle on his head a few weeks ago.”

 

“That was a total accident!” you defend, your chin raising slightly. “I didn’t mean to almost decapitate him.”

 

“Good thing the little shit’s fast,” Bucky laughs as he grabs his discarded rag and moves to a table across the room. 

 

You feel yourself smiling at the playful banter as you both settle back into a companionable silence. Laughing with Bucky is more fun than ignoring him and you hope that this means his guard is lowering enough to befriend you. You’d wanted more in the beginning, so much more, and you’d still happily take it if Bucky were to offer but you don’t want to do anything that he’s uncomfortable with. It surprises you, but you just want him to be happy.

 

With a slight frown, you watch Bucky weave through the tables, wiping them down and placing the chairs on top. You try not to but you can’t help letting your eyes linger on his left arm. No one has mentioned anything about it and you figure there has to be a good reason for it. But you can’t help the curiosity that keeps your eyes glued to the appendage.

 

“You can ask,” Bucky hums, eyes not lifting from the table in front of him as your eyes tear away from the metal of his arm and lift them to his face.

 

You hesitate for a moment before you lean back against the bar and ask, “Is it real?”

 

“Real metal or a real arm?” Bucky offers, lifting his head to look at you. The look in his eyes is more anxious than anything but he tries not to show much emotion as he takes in the look on your face.

 

You’re not afraid of him, not bothered by the prosthetic, just curious. And Bucky can see that when you tilt your head and look him in the eye before you answer, “Uh, both?”, your tone questioning.

 

Bucky lets out a small laugh before he drops the rag in his hand and crosses the room to lean against the column across from you. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets once more as his eyes rake over the metal of his left arm. “Both,” Bucky affirms. “It’s a prosthetic but it’s really metal and it’s a fully functioning arm. So, a really advanced prosthetic, I guess. It’s like the real thing, I can control it and everything, it’s just made of metal.” He feels like he’s rambling but it’s nice to have you looking at him with curiosity and not terror. He’s glad that you’re just interested, not nervous or afraid as some have been.

 

You pause for a moment at his answer before you nod at the new information. A beat of silence passes before you glance at him and ask hesitantly, “Can I ask how?”

 

Bucky shrugs as he lifts his head to glance at you. His eyes are unreadable and his face no longer holds the same easy smile as it held earlier. He’s not upset, he’s just not as relaxed as he was earlier. But with a motion, he crosses the gap between the two of you and reaches for a barstool you hadn’t yet moved. “Only if you make me a drink,” he hums as he takes a seat.

 

You can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into you as you round the bar and reach for the necessary bottle to make his preferred drink. His eyes are on your hips, the way you move is so fluid that he can’t help the question that spills past his lips. “Why are you behind the bar, not on stage? I know you told Stark you were comfortable but you’d make a great dancer.”

 

“Stage fright,” you answer honestly as you slide his drink across the bar to him. “Tried it once in college. Puked on a guy in a cheap suit and was asked to leave,” you explain with a small smile. Bucky laughs at your answer before he takes a sip of his drink and glances back at you expectantly. “So, what happened?”

 

Bucky downs the rest of his drink before he runs his flesh hand through his hair and glances down at the metal fingers drumming across the bar. “I was a soldier, a sniper. Steve and I, we served together. We were in a special ops group called the Howling Commandos with a couple other guys. We took on a lot of stuff too dangerous or too specialized for other people. We worked really well together, got the job done. Usually, anyway.” Bucky pauses and, as he continues to glance at the metal of his arm, you refill his glass. He sends you a look of gratitude before he takes a sip and continues. 

 

“We were on a mission and it didn’t go that well. I fell off a train, lost my arm. I thought I was going to leave with one arm, maybe a prosthetic or something, but I was coming to terms with it. That’s when Stark stepped in. He was in weapons before all of this, he was over there showing some of his products, and we became friends somehow. He got a friend to help me out. T’Challa, the guy who comes in sometimes, his little sister is the smartest person on the planet, a billion times smarter than Stark, and she engineered it. Put me back together.”

 

Bucky glances up from his glass to see the frown on your face and your eyes on his arm. “I’m fine,” he assures you, “I’m coming to terms with everything. Getting better every day.”

 

You nod at his words and move your eyes back to his face. “So, how’d you end up here?” you question as you lean against the cabinets behind the bar. “Stark?”

 

“A little Stark, a little Steve,” Bucky shrugs. “There’s not a lot out there for a guy who’s not all together. Stark knows me, knows what happened. He offered me a job after Steve started working here and I took it.”

 

“Steve doesn’t seem the stripper type,” you laugh, hoping to add a little humor to the situation.

 

Thankfully, Bucky grins at your words and shakes his head. “He’s not, not really. But shit happens. It’s not so bad, though. We’ve made a decent living here. The customers aren’t all that bad, work’s not that bad, co-workers aren’t that bad; it could always be worse.” He pauses for a moment before he tilts his head and glances back at you. “Why are you here?”

 

“Nat convinced me to come aboard. Said you guys needed a new bartender pretty desperately. I have a day job, I work for a poverty fighting non-profit. We focus mostly on children and older adults and it’s a great job. I love what I do. It’s really personally fulfilling. But non-profits aren’t the most financially fulfilling,” you shrug. “I was a bartender in college. It’s fun, pay’s okay, co-workers aren’t so bad,” you repeat his earlier words with a small smile.

 

Bucky smiles at this and shakes his head. You’re both quiet for a moment before Bucky asks, “How’d you meet Nat, anyway?”

 

“Through Wanda,” you inform him as you step back around the bar to grab your rag. “She volunteered with me a few years ago, remembered what it was like as a kid and wanted to help out. We hit it off and she introduced me to Nat. The rest is history.”

 

“Did you know what they did?” he questions as he glances at you curiously. “For a living, I mean.”

 

“Not initially,” you shrug, “but it didn’t matter when I found out. Stripping’s not a big deal. If you’re here of your own free will, I have no issue with it. It’s a job. Sex work is still work.”

 

Bucky nods at your words and finishes off his drink before he stands and grabs his rag once more. “I wish more people thought like you, doll.”

 

* * *

 

After your night working with Bucky, things change between the two of you. He’s more open, more affectionate, and much more of a flirt now that you’ve opened up to one another. He hangs out at the bar when he’s not on stage, cracking jokes and keeping you company, and after the club closes, he’s usually the one helping you clean. The new friendship the two of you have going is nice, it’s comfortable, but you can’t help the feeling in the pit of your stomach.

 

At first, it was just a physical attraction to Bucky. His eyes, his face, his hair, his body; everything about him is beautiful. But the more you get to know him, the deeper your attraction becomes. Everything about Bucky Barnes is beautiful and that includes what makes him Bucky.

 

He’s the sweetest, most loyal, most loving person you’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. He calls Steve a punk more often than not but you know that he’d do anything for him. He gives Pietro and Peter more shit than he probably should but you know that he’d kick someone’s ass for even looking at them wrong. He and Sam argue more than they actually speak but you know that, at the end of the day, he’d be the first person to come running if Sam needed him.

 

No one is perfect, not even Bucky. However, as cheesy as it sounds, if anyone is close, it’s him.

 

You want nothing more than to spend time getting to know him, getting to see him as more than just your friend, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You know that he’s more comfortable with you than before but you know that some things are still hard for him. You don’t want to overstep your boundaries so you’re willing to live with what he’s given you and have that be enough.

 

As your resolve strengthens, Bucky, however, feels his resolve slowly starting to crumble.

 

He thought you were gorgeous the first night he laid eyes on you but didn’t make a move. When he found out you’d be working together, he didn’t want things to be weird. He wanted you to be comfortable here, enjoy the job and the co-workers as much as you could. After talking with you, however, Bucky was more sure than ever that he wanted you.

 

He wanted to be more than your friend. He wanted to wipe away the frown that curled your lips when you were deep in thought, he wanted to wrap his arms around you and tell those drunken idiots to fuck off when they got too aggressive, he wanted to be there for you and be a part of your life; but he wasn’t sure if you wanted any of that.

 

The only thing that he was sure of was that any time he danced, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. And that’s not the place he’d normally try to start a strong relationship but everything about you has taken him down the road less travelled. So, he does the only thing he knows will get your attention.

 

“Doll,” he calls as soon as you finish closing out the tabs, “I need your help.”

 

“Sure, Buck,” you hum as you stash the receipts in an envelope for Tony, “what can I do for you?”

 

“I’m working on a new routine,” he hums as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and glances at you from beneath his lashes. “It’s got some audience participation in it and I was wondering if you’d be my audience.”

 

You raise an eyebrow at his question and hope that the heat in your cheeks isn’t noticeable as you ask, “Are you going to manhandle me like Steve did that poor girl last night?”

 

“Poor girl?” Bucky laughs, “She got exactly what she wanted.” He closes the space between the column he leant against and the bar and fully looks at you. “Yes,” he answers your question, “there’s manhandling involved. But I heard you liked it rough.”

 

“Nat’s been sharing my secrets, huh?” you question as you toss your rag onto the counter and step out from behind the bar. “Fine,” you sigh as you allow him to lead you to a chair in front of the stage. “But no funny business,” you tease as you settle into the chair Bucky selects for you.

 

“Scout’s honor,” Bucky promises with a wink although you can see the crossed fingers of his flesh hand. He laughs at your eye roll as he climbs onto the stage. “It was actually Wanda,” he informs you as he scrolls through the playlist on his phone to find the song, “She’s the one spilling your secrets, doll.”

 

“She has no secrets when it comes to sex. She and Nat are two of the most open people on the planet. I can’t blackmail them for shit,” you pout as you cross your arms over your chest.

 

“It’s just sex, doll,” Bucky shrugs with a grin, “nothing to be ashamed about. Plenty of people like it rough.”

 

You try to stop the words but they come tumbling out of your mouth anyway. “Yeah,” you hum with a smirk, “do you?”

 

Bucky doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he winks at you and shoves his phone back into his pocket as the sound of Nine Inch Nail’s Closer echoes through the room. His smirk widens at the look on your face and you feel your cheeks heat once again as you watch Bucky begin his routine.

 

His eyes are on your face as his hips roll and it feels like a lifetime before his hands tug the material of his t-shirt over his head. You can’t tear your eyes away from him as he drops to his knees, thighs spread and a smirk on his face, before beckons you forward with a crook of his finger. You stand on jelly-like legs and move to the edge of the stage where Bucky smirks down at you. His fingers intertwine with yours for a moment and he gives you a quick squeeze before he leans forward and reaches for your hips. It’s effortless, the way that he lifts you onto the stage and places you on your knees in front of him.

 

He pulls you forward so that your knees are on either side of his thighs and you’re straddling his lap. You can feel his erection pressing against your panty-covered core and you’re thanking every higher power that you decided to wear a dress to work tonight.

 

Bucky glances at your face, searching for any hesitation, and when he finds none, he continues.

 

The way that his hips move against yours is maddening. His thrusts are almost animalistic as he grips your hips hard enough to bruise. You’re ready to break, ask him to do something or let you up, when he growls and stands, dragging you up with him. As your legs wrap around his waist, he moves his hands to better support you and carries you across the open space to the storage room behind the bar.

 

Once the door is shut and your back is shoved against a set of shelves, Bucky’s eyes search yours wildly. “I lied earlier,” he breathes as he takes in your lust-blown pupils and the quickening of your breath, “that’s not a new routine. It’s for you. Only you. If you want me.”

 

“God,” you breathe as you wrap your arms tighter around his neck, “yes, yes please. I want whatever you’ll give me.”

 

Bucky hesitates for a moment, wanting to be sure that this is something you really want, but begins to move as soon as your lips press against his jaw.

 

As you work kisses along his jawline and down his neck, Bucky’s fingers dip beneath the skirt of your dress and shove your panties to the side. “You’re so wet for me,” he breathes against your skin as you shift your head and allow him to press his lips to your shoulder. “Is this every time you watch me dance? Do you imagine you’re beneath me, fingers pulling my hair as I pound into you?” At your whimpered ‘yes’, Bucky slips a finger into your heat and groans as you clench around him. “I’ve thought about this so many times,” he admits, his lips ghosting over your skin as your fingers find the tie holding his hair back, “thought about you beneath me, on top of me, beside me; I’ve thought about taking you in any way I could and then taking more. Wanna watch you fall apart for me, again and again and again. Want you to sit on my face, let me taste you.”

 

As Bucky continues to ramble confessions, your fingers tangle in his hair and your head flies back to press against the wall. “Bucky, please,” you breathe as he slips a second finger into your heat and rubs quick circles on your clit with his thumb. “Please, fuck me.”

 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “yeah. Later, I wanna watch you fall apart. Now, I just need to be inside you.”

 

You shiver at the promise of later as Bucky grabs a condom from his wallet. You whine at the emptiness you feel but get over it as Bucky shoves his sweatpants down enough to free himself. As soon as he’s sheathed in latex, Bucky aligns himself and returns his eyes to yours. “You’re sure about this?” he questions, one last time.

 

“Bucky,” you breathe, your fingers tangling in his hair and your eyes locking with his, “I’m so sure. Please.”

 

With your approval, Bucky enters you. Once he bottoms out, he stills against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck and his fingers digging into your skin as he allows you a moment to adjust. “You feel so good, fuck,” he breathes against your skin, “so, so good. Better than I imagined.”

 

You can think of no response other than to dig your heels into his back and shift your hips to signal to Bucky that you’re ready for him to move. As he sets a brutal pace, you know that this won’t last long. You can only hope that his promise of later will ring true and that you’ll get a chance to explore one another as long as you’d like.

 

For the moment, however, all you can focus on is Bucky. His fingers, one set digging into your hip and the other rubbing bruising circles at your clit; his eyes, focused on your face and careful to note any less than positive reaction; his hair, tangled in your fingers and clinging to his neck as the sweat continues to accumulate; his breath fanning across your neck; it’s all overwhelming and you feel yourself falling over the edge as a particularly hard thrust sends him brushing against your g-spot.

 

Bucky’s hips stutter as you clench around him and he breathes out a strained, “Fuck, doll, so tight.” He knows that his own end is near and, as he continues to fuck you through the aftershocks, his hips stutter once more and he joins you in the afterglow of your romp.

 

The two of you are still for a moment before Bucky pulls out and lowers you onto weak legs. He keeps an eye on you to make sure you’re steady as he quickly pulls the condom off and ties it. Once he’s tucked himself back into his sweatpants, he rights your panties and straightens your skirt.

 

The two of you are silent as you look at one another, both unsure of what the other wants, before Bucky breaks the silence.

 

“I meant it,” he hums, “all of it. The dance was just for you. All of those things I said, I want to do them with you. But that’s not all I want. I’m not just in it for the sex. I want to give a relationship with you a shot. If that’s something you want.”

 

Bucky looks so nervous and you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest as you throw your arms around his waist and nod against his chest. “I want that, too,” you assure him, “all of it. I didn’t want to overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable.”

 

Bucky can’t help the soft smile that forms on his face at your thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” he whispers against your hair, “thank you for waiting for me.”

 

He allows you to twist in his arms so that your fingers are splayed across his jaw. “Any time,” you promise him in a whisper, your smile reflecting his as you lean in closer. When your lips meet his, you can feel Bucky’s smile and you know that this is going to be something special.

 

Bucky is something special.

 

 

**_BONUS:_ **

 

“I swear to God, if the two of you aren't fully clothed, I’m kicking your asses. Come on, out,” Tony grumbles as he throws open the storage room door to find you and Bucky wrapped in each other’s arms. He narrows his eyes at the amount of clothing the two of you are wearing but wrinkles his nose at the stench of sex. “Fucking kids,” he grumbles as he shoos the two of you out of the closet, “going at it like rabbits in my club. I don’t need any mini tin-mans running around here.”

 

“Tony,” you giggle as you grab your bag and coat, “maybe you should get laid. It does wonders for your stress levels.”

 

He narrows his eyes at you and Bucky as Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist. “Yeah,” Bucky agrees with a grin, “might do you some good, Stark.”

 

“If the two of you don’t leave now, I’m going to throw you out myself,” Tony grumbles as he shakes his head. “Now I have to disinfect the entire storage room. Half the stock is ruined,” he grumbles to himself as he begins to walk away, “at least Peter never fucked one of the dancers in the storage room.”

 

“I can make better drinks than Peter,” you remind Tony as he continues his grumbling, “and I’m sure you’d rather catch me naked than him.”

 

You and Bucky giggle as Tony disappears from sight with a middle finger salute. “I know this isn't the right order,” Bucky begins as soon as Tony is out of earshot, “but would you want to grab something to eat?”

 

“Is anything we do normal?” you question him with a grin. “I’m dying for some waffles.”

 

Bucky grins and wraps an arm around your shoulder as the two of you exit the club. It’s not normal and it’s not perfect but it’s damn near close enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a slut for stripper!AUs. I love Stripper!Bucky.


End file.
